


Just One Good Thing

by HeartOfTheMirror



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Basically, Bathing/Washing, Body Worship, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Hair Washing, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Safehouses, Sharing Clothes, Sleepy Cuddles, badass Bucky, nice things happen to Bucky, non sexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 09:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6073807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartOfTheMirror/pseuds/HeartOfTheMirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve bathes Bucky and then they cuddle because sometimes a good thing needs to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just One Good Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'ed. If you see a mistake feel free to let me know and I'll fix it. I just needed to get this fucking thing out of my WIP folder after months of looking at it.

It had been little more than a month since Steve was released from the hospital and he was frankly sick of chasing his own tail up and down the eastern seaboard (with fun little excursions to Cuba and Hati and Mexico that had the CIA in such a tizzy they were probably on the verge of stuffing cherry bombs in his mailbox). Bucky's strike pattern was erratic and devastatingly effective. Hydra was on the run from _him_. Steve was proud. And frustrated. 

It was raining in Baltimore. A cold miserable evening that made Steve feel even more disjointed and out of place than usual. Steve had his baseball cap pulled low, his head ducked down and his shoulders hunched to keep as much of the rain off his neck as he could. He was so busy watching out for puddles that he didn't even see the man until their shoulders knocked together. He probably wouldn't have even known it was Bucky if it hadn't been the shoulder reinforced with metal he'd collided with.

Steve turned abruptly, the name halfway on his lips when Bucky grabbed him, covering his mouth and dragging him into the nearby alley with one neat graceful spin. It was a predatory motion when Bucky pinned Steve up against the crumbling brick wall with his hips, sliding his hands to Steve's wrists and pinning him like he was an interesting insect in an exhibit case.

Steve's mouth was still open to speak but the wind had been knocked out of him. Bucky kissed him, a harsh possessive push of his lips just like he used to do whenever he was really ticked at Steve. Steve felt like he'd been knocked flat on his ass.

"You've had a tail since St.Louis. Do you know how many agents I've had to kill for you since you've been walking around this shithole city? You've had four different sniper rifles trained on you today Steve. Four. And you didn't notice a goddamned one of them." Bucky was fuming alright. 

His hair hung limp, damp, and dirty from his trucker hat. Steve could actually see where it was darkened and clumped with dried blood. It set his heart racing as he looked over Bucky's unkempt beard, his chapped bitten lips and bruise-tired eyes. The Bucky he'd known before the war- hell the Bucky he'd known _during_ the war would have been ashamed to be seen in such a state. He supposed the man before him had bigger problems than wounded vanity.

"You took care of me," Steve said wonderingly. "Let me take care of you now Buck. Please." The rest of it could wait 'till tomorrow in Steve's eyes. All he wanted to do was get his baby feeling good again. It looked like Bucky had gone so long since he'd had something to make him feel good. He looked gaunt. Haunted. Homeless. 

Steve wanted, if only for a minute, to take the hurt away.

Bucky hesitated, staring uncertainly at Steve's suddenly glassy eyes. "If you think I'm gonna suddenly come in from the cold just because you turned on the water works you can forget it pal. At least one of us has to have an ounce of self-preservation and that clearly aint gonna be you."

"Just one night Buck. You need to rest. It looks like you haven’t slept since 1942. Let me take care of you tonight," Steve said softly, wishing he had his hands free to stroke his lover's face, to twist into Bucky’s henley and never let go.

"Fine," Bucky said curtly, jerking his chin up. He released Steve and shoved his hands in the pockets of his open jacket, leading the way back to the safe house Steve was borrowing from Clint.

Steve didn't realize he'd been pick-pocketed until Bucky was pulling out the key to the front of the apartment building and bounding up the steps to the third floor. The apartment door was hanging open before Steve could catch up to him, heart pounding with the half-paranoid certainty that he was being given the slip.

Bucky was there when Steve entered. He'd wiped his shoes on the mat and was now stalking around inspecting the drawn blinds, the security of the reinforced window frames and their bullet proof glass. 

Steve let him do it. Whatever Bucky needed to feel secure Steve was happy to provide if he could and this was such a small thing in comparison to what Steve was willing to give. While Steve toed out of his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket Bucky watched him in the reflection of the glass. Though he was half sane and on a mission of total Hydra annihilation, Bucky could never fail to appreciate those shoulders, those slim hips, that _ass_. 

For a second Bucky fervently wished that some part of 'take care of for the night' involved Steve bending over the generic living room couch and letting Bucky have at that ass for approximately forever. Bucky shook his head to dispel of such irrational thoughts and closed the blinds again, turning away from the window. What they built back in Brooklyn, what they stole in sips and gasps during the war, couldn’t possibly survive in a century of vengeance and regret.

Besides, if he ever got Steve out of those jeans he might never be able to leave this Ikea hell hole and finish what he’d started. Maybe once Hydra was actually wiped off the map for good he could revisit the idea of finding some way to sweet talk his babydoll out of his denim. Until then...

"We can start in the bathroom," Steve suggested helpfully, breaking his guest from his thoughts. Bucky came back to himself sharply. "I'll meet you in there, okay?" Steve said. Bucky gave a curt nod and turned away before the sight of Rogers could rip him to pieces again.

He hopped up on the sink and waited. Sure enough, Steve came in a second later with a cheery smile and a soft pile of clothes tucked under one arm. He set the garments on the closed lid of the John. To Bucky's great surprise the next thing Steve did was kneel by Bucky's feet and began unlacing his boots, taking first one and then the other dirty shoe and easing it off of Bucky's feet like they were Cinderella's fucking slippers. Bucky snorted, rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

 _Christ on a cracker_ , Bucky thought. _Rogers don’t have the sense god gave a New York pigeon._ He was treating Barnes like he was something special after all these years. As if he wouldn’t be covered in muck and filth and blood for the rest of his life for being fool enough to try to fight himself clear of the violence. He knew damn well that killing the people that made him dirty wouldn’t do a damn thing to make him clean again. But it would feel good.

Steve peeled down his socks next, balling them up in the shoes, and massaging at the red lines they left behind where they had constricted his ankles.Steve's gently circling fingers slipped up under Bucky's pant legs, cupping his calves as Steve looked up at him so fucking earnestly Bucky felt he was going to burst like a water balloon. Bucky shifted on the sink edge, tightening the arms he'd crossed around himself. He should never have agreed to come here. But running without shoes was a pain in the ass. And he hadn't had a hot shower in a while.

Steve withdrew his hands from the legs on Bucky's pants. Barely keeping in a whine of disappointment Bucky watched as those strong golden hands drifted up to his knees, massaging through the material of his jeans.

"Can you stand up for me Buck?" Steve asked, staying perfectly still where he was kneeling between Bucky's sprawled knees. Bucky obeyed without bothering to respond. His crotch was less than a handspan from Steve’s nose. 

"Thank you," Steve said earnestly, rubbing up and down Bucky's thighs like there was some way to get the chill out of his tired weary bones.

There was nothing particularly sexual about what came next although Steve was unbuttoning his pants, tugging down his zipper, helping him step out of the jeans and then folding them and casting them aside. Steve stood to slide Bucky's jacket off his shoulders, to coax his shirt over his head and run his hands over Bucky's quivering muscles. 

Bucky’s nerves were shivering up on him like he’d literally come in from the cold. He felt like a live wire. He couldn’t stop himself from eyeing the exits. All this delicacy, this tenderness, was smothering him. He wasn’t- he couldn’t-

"Shh," Steve was saying despite the fact that Bucky hadn't spoken. Bucky was suddenly conscious of his breathing, of how loud it seemed. He restrained himself to small quiet little sips of air although it felt like drowning. In through his nose, hold, out. Never enough to ease the constriction in his chest but enough for Steve not to notice how this whole ‘relaxation’ business was making him sweat worse than a whore in church.

"Let's just get this over with," Bucky muttered gruffly. Flicking his hair out of his eyes as he stepped away from Steve, Bucky leaned down to rid himself of his boxers. He stood before his fully clothed friend with his arms crossed and his feet shoulder width apart- a stance more appropriate to a pause between sparring matches than an evening of relaxation.

"Fill the tub with warm water for me?" Steve sighed. It didn’t sound like a question despite the careful phrasing. Bucky obeyed and behind him, Steve made quick work of stripping himself down. 

Steve sat on the edge of the tub skimmed his fingers over the water. Pursing his lips, Steve reached for a bottle of fragrant bath oil and poured a liberal amount into the water. It began foaming immediately, creating a white perfumed froth. 

Steve swished the water around with his hand, catching a palmful of the bubbles and flicking them at Bucky.The deadly assassin blinked twice, watching the bubble bath slide down his nose. Steve had to turn his head to hide his snicker, so of course, he didn’t see the retaliation coming. 

Bucky ducked down and used his superhuman reflexes to send a wave of bubble bejeweled water splashing right in his former lover’s face.

It got all over Steve’s boxers, the floor, and the towel hanging on the rack beside the tub. For a second Bucky’s brain shorted out, screaming at him to run, to defend himself from the inevitable punishment, but it passed as quick as any computer glitch when Steve started laughing.

Steve didn’t laugh big and deep like his voice and his body might lead some people to expect. It was, to Steve’s constant mortification, closer to a giggle than anything else. Something just a little too high pitched for his frame. Perfectly reminiscent of the rail thin kid he’d been back in Brooklyn. 

Back then it was Steve’s voice that was too deep and rich and his laugh that everyone thought suited him well.

With this thought to warm him Bucky climbed in the water unprompted. Steve hummed and smiled at him.

He took the washcloth he’d gotten from the cupboard and dipped it in the steamy water, swishing it around partially to help stir in the bubbles a little more and partially so he could swish it teasingly across the top of Bucky’s thigh. 

Bucky shivered. As young men, Bucky had been the tease of the town. When it was just the two of them every moment was innuendo and foreplay for Bucky. Steve used to gripe that Bucky liked the anticipation more than the orgasms and Bucky’d always just shrugged a smiled.

Maybe that was for the best, Steve mused, since there certainly weren’t going to be any orgasms tonight.

Steve took the bar of Irish Spring from soap dish and tried not to stare at Bucky while he got the washcloth all sudsy. From the corner of his eye Steve could see that Bucky was just sitting in the water dully. He wasn’t slouching or lounging or playing with the bubbles anymore. It was like his mind had just shut itself off and left a perfectly blank body behind.  
Steve really didn’t fucking like it at all.

Steve laid the soapy washcloth over Bucky’s face. “Hold this for me a minute Buck?” he asked innocently while Bucky sputtered. 

“You fuckin’ asshole,” Bucky griped, ripping the washcloth off. 

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” Steve teased. “Looked like you’d fallen asleep on me there.”

“Well it was easy to fall asleep, what with you being all talk and no action,” Bucky accused oddly angry. Bucky was a self-aware man when he wasn’t being drugged, cryogenically frozen, and having his brain tickled by an electric chair every other Thursday. He knew he wanted Steve’s hands on him and all he was getting was a whole lot of Steve very carefully pretending not to noticed the frankly hideous scarring around his intimidating cyborg arm.

If Steve figured this little exercise in aid and comfort could be disguised as some wartime tryst he was sadly fuckin’ mistaken. If Bucky couldn’t ever forget that he was the Winter Soldier Steve shouldn’t be able to either. Bucky didn’t like feeling that Steve was hesitating because they both knew that once Steve started really touching Bucky’s bare body there would be no way to pretend that the last seventy years hadn’t happened.

“Hey,” Steve said softly. He picked up Bucky’s right hand, running his thumb over the rough knuckles there and then following it with the soapy washcloth. “You remember when you used to do this for me?” Steve asked, his voice a little watery.

Of course Bucky remembered. Steve had been on the verge of death every other week as a kid. Those were not soothing times for Bucky, if that’s what steve was trying to get at. Wiping old sweat- and sometimes worse- off someone he loved, who was as prideful and prickly as a wet cat- maybe that was what Steve was trying to get at? The roles had well and truly been reversed. Bucky was the one ready to get the hell out of dodge and take some of his former lover’s skin with him.

Very deliberately, Bucky closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall of the tub. “Still not half the little shit you were,” Bucky muttered. He could feel Steve’s smile like he’d stepped outside into the sun.

Steve turned Bucky’s hand over, very carefully rubbing the washcloth in little circles. The skin was so sensitive there it almost tickled. He caressed each of Bucky’s fingers individually, working the webs between them, pressing over the little wrinkles of his knuckles. He even found a little scrub brush somewhere and went to task on Bucky’s nails. It was like being in a spa- if the spa tech was on the verge of tears and mostly naked. 

Bucky sighed, slouching down a little more in the steamy water. Working his way up Bucky’s arm Steve let his mind wander to the metal one and what he’d do when he got there. Treat it the same? Avoid it? Something in between? He’d have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

He massaged up Bucky’s forearm, over his biceps, following with the rag and adding more soap as need be. He wished he’d brought that bath bomb kit Natasha had gotten him for Christmas. The Bucky he’d known in the war would have totally lost his shit at the chance to soak in lavender scented moisturizer. 

Bucky’s pecs were a dream to wash, hard packed muscle that curved so nicely under Steve’s hands. He was beginning to understand everyone’s obsession with his own. He thumbed a nipple, not with any real intent but just as a friendly hello. Bucky hummed, shifting and opening himself up to Steve. A cursory check reassured Steve that his friend hadn’t checked out again and left his body eerily empty, but rather was floating in that dreamy space half-way between sleep and consciousness.

The cloth trailed down over Bucky’s abbs. They were so defined, nothing like the flat hard plain of Bucky’s stomach during the war or the easy boyish little curve of it before. Steve took his time, even pressing a cloth covered finger in Bucky’s bellybutton despite the fact that he tensed up and immediately started giggling. 

“You prick,” Bucky breathed through his laughter, shoving Steve’s hands away from his middle. His friend just gave him an innocent, angelic smile. While Bucky watched with a renewed and playful wariness, Steve cupped his hands and poured the water between them over Bucky’s soapy arm and chest. He had to repeat this gentle process several times before the last of the suds had been washed away.

And then he reached his hand out, gesturing for Bucky’s other arm. The tension in Bucky’s frame ratcheted up another notch and for a second Steve wasn’t sure whether or not he’d be allowed to touch the metal at all tonight. He kept his face neutral, even though when Bucky placed his hand delicately in Steve’s it felt like a victory. 

Steve didn’t know how much the arm could feel and it didn’t seem unclean. Still, he washed it exactly as he had the other.

He worked his way down each of Bucky’s thick hard thighs, gently massaging away grime as if he were peeling down a lady’s black stockings. He pressed his fingers into the tense and clearly aching muscles and cupped Bucky’s toned calves in the palms of his hands one at a time to raise his feet out of the water and caress them with the freshly soaped washcloth. 

Bucky was leaning back against the cheap plastic basin of the tub with his head tipped skywards and his lush mouth tipped slightly open. Steve felt a moment of raw smug pride that he’d been able to give Bucky this. In his not at all biased opinion, Bucky deserved all the good things in the world.

Steve washed the pads of Bucky’s feet, between his toes, and back up his legs. He gave Bucky’s johnson a perfunctory going over with the cloth but spent a little extra time making sure everything else down there was clean. Bucky had been a real stickler for that back home.

Steve rung out the cloth and set it aside. The wet and lathered a new one from the cabinet and set to gently stroking up Bucky’s collarbones to his throat. Bucky tensed a little. Steve carefully kept up his rhythmic back and forth stroke over the same swath of skin between his jugular and his trachea until that little bit of tension drained out. Only then did he move upward to begin massaging the cloth over his chin and cheeks in little circles. He worked around Bucky’s mouth, nose, and eyes as best he could and used his cupped hands to wash the soap away when he was through.

“Time to do your hair,” Steve said quietly. Bucky made a sleepy grumpy noise but obligingly sat up and scooched forward to the middle of the tub. Once Steve was sure Bucky was settled he put his hand on Buck’s neck and encouraged him to lean back and wet his hair. It was tangled, greasy, but manageable. Steve wanted nothing more than to get his hands in it. 

Bucky sat back up and waited patiently, watching Steve as he lathered some of the cheap shampoo between his palms. After a moment of consideration, Steve began by sweeping up all of Bucky’s hair to the top of his head and working the lathered shampoo in from there. 

Bucky moaned, shocked at how good it felt to have Steve’s strong talented fingers scrubbing at his scalp. The rest of the bath had been good, but this, this was the best.

…

Bucky was genuinely disappointed when the bath was over. But the water had grown cool and every part of him was clean. Steve had even conditioned his hair, which was actually more than Bucky’d thought to expect. 

When he stepped out of the bath Steve was ready with a fluffy towel to dry his body with the same thorough care he’d washed it with. He even tossed the damp towel in a bin when he was done and got two dry ones. One of these he wrapped around Bucky’s hips and the other around his shoulders. Bucky was left standing there with strict instructions to do nothing until Steve returned. 

Feeling foolish, but not particularly keen to disobey Bucky wondered how all this would end. He’d probably have to sneak out while Steve was sleeping. Although, it might be easier to keep Steve safe if he were closer…

But that was a selfish, self-indulgent thought and he knew better. Things were the way they had to be. 

When Steve came back he was flushed and shyly proud of himself. Bucky nearly choked when Steve kneeled down at his feet but Steve just held out a pair of his sweatpants for Bucky to step into. They were clean and soft and warm like they’d just come out of the dryer. Bucky hadn’t thought anything could feel better than the bath but he was swiftly proven wrong. Being warm and dry and wearing Steve’s clothes was already replacing it for the title of Best Thing Bucky’s Ever Fucking Felt In His Shit-stained Life.

Steve toweled off Bucky’s hair with a playful little grin. Flipping Steve off was a lot less complicated than pulling him in to see if he’d welcome a long hot kiss, so that’s what Bucky did. Looking delighted to have an ex-Hydra assassin flip him the bird, Steve reached out for Bucky’s other hand and laced their fingers together.

Bucky followed him to the bedroom where the comforter was already turned down and the pillows build up around the headboard like a nest. He didn’t bother trying to talk himself out of climbing into that pile of heaven with the only person left on earth who didn’t make his skin crawl. 

The comforter was heavy and warm. The mattress itself was hard as a fucking rock. Bucky was secretly grateful. There was no way he’d been able to sleep if he felt like he was sinking through a marshmallow.

Anticipating Steve’s anxious need for cuddles, and how it would conflict with his newfound desire to treat Bucky as though he were made of fine china, Buck moved decisively into little spoon position. 

There were a thousand and one things he should worry about, and no way was it smart for Bucky to fall asleep no matter how safe and warm and fucking _loved_ he felt. But he did. And God, it was pure bliss.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading!
> 
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated! :D 
> 
> As always, you can find me at my [my tumblr](http://heartofthemirror.tumblr.com/) for more of the same.


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